


Burnin' Up For You Baby

by Spoodlemonkey



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: But he's got Tom, First Time, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Mike doesn't have a lot of self preservation, Nicke honestly isn't sure why he puts up with his children, but he tries to make sure Mike does, who really doesn't either
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2019-08-21
Packaged: 2020-09-23 13:57:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20341255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spoodlemonkey/pseuds/Spoodlemonkey
Summary: “Dude,” Tom tries to pry the blanket out of his hands but Mike isn’t about to just surrender. Mike tightens his grip. “The fire alarm is literally going off. You can’t just ignore it.”“Watch me.”





	Burnin' Up For You Baby

**Author's Note:**

> Why yes the title is from the Jonas Brothers...

The piercing shriek of the alarm jolts Mike out of a deep sleep. 

Disoriented, he’s half out of bed, heart thundering, reaching for his phone to kill his alarm clock. His mind is whirling, like it’s been jump started and the rest of him is just rushing to catch up. They have to be at the airport in two hours, he has to shower and finish packing- what he was  _ supposed _ to get done the night before, before Tom showed up and thoroughly distracted him with his  _ everything- _ and he still needs to be down for team breakfast. His feet get tangled up in the blanket and it trips him back into bed and that’s around when the reality of the situation starts to sink in. 

“What the  _ fuck.” _ Mike sinks back into the mattress, scrubbing his palms over his face. 

The fire alarm keeps up its incessant screeching, accompanied by a strobing light that burns his eyes and leaves him seeing spots. 

He throws his arm out, groping blindly around the bedside table for his phone. The display says it’s a little after three in the morning. He’s barely had three hours of sleep after a shit show of a game that he’s really starting to feel the hits from. He has to get up in another four hours for the flight to Calgary and another game that night and then the long ass trip home. 

The longer he lays there, the easier it is to ignore the blaring of the alarm and he can feel the exhaustion of the day tugging at him. His arms are heavy, eyes tired.

_ Fuck it, _ he thinks.

Locking his phone, he tosses it back on the dresser. Then he rolls over, grabbing the spare pillow and throwing it over his head. It muffles the sounds a bit. His eyes thank him for the reprieve from the flashing light. It gets easier to block the sound out the longer he lays there, letting his exhausted, sore body sink back into the mattress. The alarm has to turn off sooner or later. He’s spent enough time in hotels to know it’s never really a fire; it’s almost always some jackass smoking. Said jackass isn’t going to stop him from getting as much sleep as he can before they have to hit the road again. 

He can just make out his ringtone over the alarm but he ignores it- it’s just going to be one of the guys. If he answers it, he can’t just pretend he slept through the alarm. It’s better to play dumb than risk Nicke’s wrath. 

He’s actually starting to drift again when the pounding on his door starts up. 

“Go  _ away,” _ he grunts into the mattress. There’s muffled voices coming from the hallway but he can’t make out what they’re saying. Mike squeezes his eyes shut and tries to wish them away. 

It works- the pounding on the door stops and Mike breathes out a sigh of relief, relaxing. 

“Latts!” 

And then his pillow is being ripped away.

“Wake up man!” Mike squints up at Tom’s stupid gorgeous face. Concern is written across his features and for a moment Mike actually starts to feel  _ bad _ for putting it there. “How are you sleeping through this? Has your snoring gotten that bad?” 

Then he just kind of wants to hit him. 

“I’ll tell Ovi we got him!” Andre appears and disappears just as quickly at the foot of the bed. 

“We’ll be right behind you!” Tom shouts after him and like,  _ no they will not. _

“Give me back my pillow.” Mike makes grabby hands for it only to have Tom toss it across the room. 

“The fire alarms going off dude,” Tom gives him a look like he’s being obtuse on purpose. And maybe he is. But it’s three am and he could honestly care less.

“There’s no fire.” Mike grunts, tugging his blanket up and over his head. “It’s too fucking early for this.” 

“Dude,” Tom tries to pry the blanket out of his hands but Mike isn’t about to just  _ surrender. _ “Come on,” he huffs. Mike tightens his grip. “The fire alarm is literally going off. You can’t just  _ ignore it.” _

“Watch me.”

“Latts, I really don’t want to like, burn to death.” 

“So go catch up to Andre.” Tom manages to with one solid yank to steal the blanket leaving Mike exposed to the chill of the air conditioning in only his boxers. He scowls up at Tom. “There’s no fire. It’s probably some idiot smoking in the stairwell again. Just let me go back to  _ sleep.” _

He isn’t ashamed to add in the pleading tone, knowing how easily Tom folds for it. It’s gotten Mike out of more trouble than he can count and he happily uses it whenever the situation calls for it. 

It very rarely fails.

Tom squares his jaw in that way Mike normally finds horribly endearing. 

“Willy…” he says warningly.

“It’s for your own good, man.” 

And then he lunges.

For one bizarre moment, Mike is certain Tom’s about to tackle him to the bed and he braces himself accordingly. Tom’s arms wrap around him, but instead of being pinned, he’s dragged to the edge of the bed and then swept up in Tom’s arms. 

Mike screeches.

“Stay still.” Tom grunts, adjusting his weight, like he didn’t just pick Mike up, bridal style. Mike flails around, then abruptly realizes if he keeps it up Tom’s going to drop him on his  _ ass,  _ and that’s definitely not an injury he wants to explain to the trainers. His arms go up around Tom’s neck as he’s swiftly carried from the room and into the empty hall. 

Mike isn’t a light guy. Tom’s definitely straining under his weight a bit but like, he hasn’t dropped Mike, and the feeling of the muscles in his arms where they’re pressed against his back and under his knees is a lot. 

And Mike’s only in his boxers.

“You have no self preservation.” Tom’s muttering which means he hasn’t noticed Mike’s flaming cheeks yet. Mike’s torn between getting out of Tom’s arms as fast as possible and just not drawing any attention to himself and how much he apparently likes how Tom can man handle him. 

“Backy teach you that one?” He can’t resist a chirp though.

“Hey I read!” 

“Porno mags don’t count.” Fuck- why can’t he keep his mouth  _ shut? _

They hit the stairs and Tom reluctantly sets him down, like he thinks Mike is going to run back to the room now, like Tom wouldn’t just come after him again. This  _ isn’t _ why Mike gave him the extra room key.

Tom does a double take, eyes flickering over the flush of Mike’s cheeks, eyes darting down Mike’s chest, his stomach, to his boxers. 

And the very obvious tenting.

“Wait, really?” Tom’s eyebrows reach his hairline. A slow grin starts to spread across his stupidly handsome face.

“Shut up.” Is the best he can come up with. He starts down the stairs, bare feet slapping on the carpet. There are voices down below so clearly they’re not the only ones late to leave. “Don’t say a  _ word.” _

“C’mon, Latts,” Tom chases after him. “It’s not a big deal.” 

The smell of smoke reaches Mike and he freezes, stops so quickly he has to grab the railing to keep from falling. Tom grabs him at the same time, tugs him back against the hard planes of his chest leaving Mike dizzy. 

“Shit, are you alright?” 

“I can smell smoke.” 

“Yeah,” Tom strokes a hand along his stomach and he shivers. “The fire alarms going off, remember?”

Mike pulls himself together enough to send Tom a withering glare and reluctantly pulls out of his embrace. 

“The one time it’s actually a fire.” Mike mutters and starts back down the stairs again. Tom follows after. A pair of firefighters meet them at the bottom and usher them out into the humid night air. A large crowd fills the parking lot but it’s easy to spot their guys huddled together. 

Nicke and Ovi find them first, the latter tugging them in for a bone crushing hug. The former smacks the back of Tom’s head drawing a startled yelp from him.

“Idiot.” Nicke unleashes a slew of angry Swedish that leaves Mike reeling, then tugs them into a hug as well. “Don’t  _ ever _ run into a burning building again.”

“You did  _ what?”  _ Mike asks, incredulously. 

Tom shrugs sheepishly. 

“You weren’t out here and you weren’t answering your phone. So I snuck back in.” The look he levels Mike with is intense. He can feel it all the way down to his  _ toes. _ “And it’s a good thing I did.”

Mike is honestly a little overwhelmed with the information. 

“You moron.” He can’t tell if he’s angry or wants to kiss him- running back into a  _ burning building.  _ For  _ Mike. _ What kind of idiot does that?

His idiot apparently.

“Hey!” Tom protests. 

Mike thinks about hitting him for being such an idiot. 

He goes with his second option instead.

Tom’s lips are full and lush under his own. He gets with the program pretty quickly, arms winding around Mike’s waist to pull him flush against him, startling a groan out of him. Kissing Tom’s like touching a live wire- as startling and electrifying and all consuming. He gets swept away in the current as Tom licks into his mouth, pulls him closer.

“About time!” Ovi’s booming voice startles them apart, accompanied by slaps on the back that rock them into each other again. Mike’s flushed all over, he’s sure. Tom doesn’t look any better- lips an obscene shade of red, cheeks flushed and hair a mess. He’s looking at Mike like he hung the moon.

_ I did that, _ Mike thinks, pleased. He can’t wait to do it again.

“Maybe parking lot of hotel is not best place for it.” Ovi continues, laughing. “Unless you like people watching.” 

He winks lewdly. 

_ “Hell no.” _ He feels naked enough as is, dressed in only his boxers. He can’t imagine being stripped down, naked in front of his team and strangers as Tom...as he…

His cheeks flame. That’s not something he  _ ever _ needed to know about himself.

::

“I was there too.” Andre pouts, curled up in the seat across the aisle from them. Mike’s running on like, four hours of sleep and was hoping to at least rest his eyes on the flight to Calgary. Tom’s dozing on his shoulder, one big hand wrapped securely around Mike’s. He’s drooling a little. It’s ridiculously sweet.

He cranes his neck, exhausted and done with the day before it’s even begun.

“What?”

“I snuck back in with Tom.”

“You want a kiss too?” 

Andre rolls his eyes like  _ Mike’s _ the one being weird.

_ “No _ . Control of the television for a month.”

“A week.” Mike barters, refusing to give in to a month of Cold Cases and American Idol.

“We did save your life.” Andre points out. “You could have  _ died _ in that fire.” His eyes go comically wide, ruthlessly pulling out his best Bambi impersonation. 

Mike is defenceless against it.

“It was one hotel room.” He protests weakly. Some idiot had tried to make noodles in the coffee maker. They’d failed. The only victims thankfully were the coffee maker and a large section of carpet that had smoked out the hotel guests and stunk up an entire floor.

The Bambi looks intensifies.

“Fine. Two weeks. My final offer.” 

Andre beams at him. “Deal.” He pushes to his feet, presumably to find someone else to annoy so Mike can sleep. 

Mike doesn’t watch him go, lets his eyes slide shut and tries to relax for the remainder of the flight. It’s surprisingly easy, he finds, with Tom curled up against his side, a warm reminder of what he has to look forward to when they get home. 


End file.
